


Like Open Books

by satincolt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dads of Marmora (Voltron), Fluff, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Best Friend Lotor, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Romantic Comedy, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-07 11:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satincolt/pseuds/satincolt
Summary: Shiro needs a course book and ends up falling for the Galra bookseller he immediately and constantly embarrasses himself in front of.  Keith, the Galra bookseller and eventual reason for Takashi Shirogane's death by spontaneous combustion, really isn't any less of a mess; he just knows how to hide it a little better.  While they're both disasters, they're perfect brand of "disastrous" for each other, and all their friends are trying to play matchmaker like it's going out of style.





	1. Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my second attempt to write a fluffy sheith rom-com. This time was slightly more successful I think. Please enjoy Gay Best Friend Lotor, which I'm determined to make a Thing, and mutual Useless Disaster Gays Sheith; I thoroughly enjoyed roasting Shiro through Pidge and Lotor. I'm also trying something new for the comments, let me know what you think down below!

Shiro walks into the store to get a book. One particular book, of which he already has the title and author written down on a note in his phone. It should take all of ten minutes to go in, locate the book, purchase it, and leave. Of course, though, he didn’t factor in the very attractive Galra bookseller with her short, black hair pulled and pinned back into a fluffy ponytail. Her bangs keep falling into her eyes as she sorts through titles on the shelf, and there’s something horrifically endearing about how she continues to blow them out of her face, apparently determined to not stop alphabetizing the books even though she can hardly see for her hair.

Shiro takes a deep breath. He’s usually not one to go for Galra, or girls for that matter, but this one is just something else. _It’s a simple question. Hi, excuse me, I’m looking for this book,_ Shiro tells himself. The moment he takes a step towards the bookseller, one of her big, fuzzy ears swivels around towards him. She doesn’t stop working on the shelf. Now is definitely not the time to admire how narrow her waist is, and how the pressed striped dress shirt she’s wearing accents it.

“Uh—sorry, excuse me, miss,” Shiro says clumsily, approaching her. She goes stiff, then turns to face Shiro with a rigid smile. Her eyes— _purple eyes,_ Shiro’s lizard brain supplies unhelpfully—flicker up and down him briefly.

“What can I help you with?” Her voice is husky, deeper than Shiro expected and _god that’s hot._

“I’m looking for this book,” Shiro holds out his phone, and the bookseller takes it gently, peering at the note.

“Is this for class?” she asks, looking back to Shiro, who nods.

“Yeah, my cultural studies class.” Shiro realizes right then how tasteless it might seem to ask the Galra employee for the Galra culture 101 book, maybe that’s why she looks so uncomfortable with him.

“Right over here.” She leads him to the back of the store and Shiro follows, entranced by the waving of her tail as she walks. Then she stops, gesturing at the top shelf which is just out of her reach. Shiro stretches up and plucks the book off the shelf.

“Thanks for your help,” he flashes her a bright smile. “I’m Shiro, by the way.”

The bookseller gives him a polite but very closed-off smile. “Keith. Glad I could be of assistance.”

“That's a cool name; I’ve never met a girl named Keith,” Shiro says, and realizes he’s misspoken the moment a dark expression crosses her face.

“That would be because I’m not a girl, actually,” Keith says in a tone that clearly shows his patience with Shiro is thinning.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly. Keith gives him an uncomfortable smile in lieu of replying and Shiro practically bolts to the front of the store and guiltily pay for the book. The rest of the day, the interaction hangs over his head like a black cloud.

It isn’t until later that week Shiro realizes with dread that he has to return to the bookstore for a different book for a different class. As he approaches the corner bookstore, he hopes that Keith isn’t there today, or if he is, that he doesn’t hate Shiro. He’d really prefer the first so that way he doesn’t have to try to apologize and inevitably make the situation worse, but as luck would have it, Keith is shelving books right next to the front door. Shiro doesn’t realize it until it’s too late and Keith has automatically turned to greet him. There’s no mistaking the way the bookseller’s customer-service smile chills slightly at the sight of Shiro.

Dread drops heavily into the pit of Shiro’s stomach. “Uh. Hi. I’m… I need another book for class, so I’m here… uh…” Keith looks less than impressed, but nods anyways. “Look, I’m really sorry about last time. I—uh. It was my bad.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith cuts in quickly. “Can I help you find your book?”

“I think I can find it. But thanks,” Shiro blurts, then practically bolts. It takes him ten minutes to find the book and check out, carefully avoiding Keith’s eyes on the way out.

When he gets back to campus, he runs into Lotor, his Galra classmate from his Galra class. Normally, Shiro would grin at the irony of it, but he can’t find that humor today. 

“Hello, Shiro; you look terrible,” Lotor says brightly, holding open the door to the campus center for Shiro.

“Thanks,” Shiro deadpans, holding open the inner door for Lotor.

“Something wrong?” Lotor asks, matching Shiro’s steps as they climb the stairs up to the dining hall on the fourth floor.

Shiro shakes his head, not wanting to embarrass himself by explaining how much of an ass he’d been and then how awkward he’d been on top of that, then he realizes that Lotor is Galra. Keith is also Galra. Maybe, just _maybe,_ Lotor could help Shiro figure out how to apologize properly to Keith. “You know that bookstore down the street? Books of Marmora?”

“Yes, I got the course book for the Galra studies class there.” Lotor looks over at Shiro.

“I did too. But I think I mortally insulted one of the booksellers and I think it might be a Galra thing.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I thought he was a girl and called him miss. I think he hates me and for all I know it’s a dishonor on him, his family, and his cow in Galra culture,” Shiro says miserably, swiping into the dining hall.

Lotor swipes in right after him and trails him around the dining hall as they survey the slim in-between-meals pickings. “His family and cow? Why would that be a Galra insult?”

“It’s a _Mulan_ reference,” Shiro mutters, settling for greasy pizza when no better option presents itself. “But isn’t there a… a _thing_ about respect or something for the Galra?”

The two slide into seats across from each other at a crumb-strewn table. Lotor pokes at his soup, looking mildly puzzled. “Not as far as I know. Of course, I’m _parza_ so maybe it’s some full-blooded oddity I wasn’t raised with.”

 _“Parza?”_ Shiro parrots.

“Partial Galra. Not full-blooded. My mother is Altean,” Lotor says primly, takes a delicate sip of soup, and immediately recoils when he burns his tongue. He runs for a cup of ice water, downing half of it as he walks back to their table. He returns to Shiro deep in thought, masticating his pizza into a liquid.

Finally, Shiro swallows and speaks. “I think he might be _parza._ He looks like a human, just… purple, and with fuzzy ears.”

“There’s no way of knowing unless you ask him, and some can be touchy about it.”

“Oh.” Shiro’s frown lines deepen. He wolfs down the rest of the pizza, hardly chewing it as if to make up for his grossly over-chewed bite.

“But it’s not a horrible insult to be mistaken for a girl for the Galra?” Shiro asks, pushing his plate away and reaching for napkins to soak the grease off his fingers.

“No, that’s more of a human thing. Galra generally don't care; our system of gender is very different.” Lotor tries to not sound too smug about it and doesn’t quite succeed.

“Why are you even taking a Galra studies class if you know _so much?”_ Shiro tries to not sound too peeved. Lotor just smirks.

“I want to know what an outsider perspective on the culture is.”

Shiro’s mouth twists, then he gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Okay, thanks Lotor, see you in class.” He stands abruptly from the table and leaves without another word, not even bothering to push his chair in. Lotor just shakes his head and daintily sips his soup and burns himself again.

That night, Shiro finds himself on Facebook procrastinating on writing an outline for a paper. He’d rather write a dozen lab reports than one paper, but humanities are required for all undergrads, so he’s required to suffer. He clicks through Messenger to see who’s online, glances at the list of names with little bright green dots next to them, and decides he doesn’t want to talk to any of them. Then he does a double take, his subconscious realizing he _does_ want to talk to one of them before his conscious catches up and rereads the name “Pidge Gunderson.”

**\---**

**Pidge Gunderson**

**Active now**

Pidge are you busy i really have to ask you a question

Please its about gender you love that

Is it an insult to mistake a guy for a girl

How do i apologize for that not awkwardly

_Seen 9:32pm_

\---

Shiro sighs, his leg bouncing wildly as the “typing” dots begin bouncing on Pidge’s side of the chat window.

\---

ok what actually happened bc this sounds like theres a story

I went to books of marmite to get a book for class & called the bookseller miss & i think he was really angry about it I asked lotor (hes galra) and he said it isnt a galra thing so it has to be a gender thing right

*marmora GDI

the bookseller’s Galra? or lotor is Galra? both?

Both

ok……….

\---

The “typing” dots start bouncing again, then stop, then start again. This goes on for at least two minutes before Shiro flips over to another tab. Then Messenger pings brightly at him and he switches back with a sigh. Pidge has sent him a veritable _essay_ of an answer and the lazy, awful part of Shiro’s brain wonders if he can paste it into his next gender studies paper.

\---

there’s no simple answer to your question bc theres about a thousand ways this could happen and they’re all different from what should happen. Yes calling a guy a girl is often perceived as an insult unfortunately even tho it *shouldn't* be bc there is nothing wrong with being a girl. since the bookseller seemed angry im gonna go out on a limb & say he took it an an insult which is :( but anyways. the weird thing about him being Galra is generally Galra don’t give a shit about human gender bc they have a spectrum with six legally recognized categories but they dont identify ppl legally based on gender anyways (which is honestly what humans should do it makes everything so much easier and reduces unnecessary social barriers for gender minorities & the binary is so broken to begin with). so this might be a stretch but he might have been raised with humans and grown up w the binary & thus perceived ur misgendering as an insult

BUT ALSO theres another thing to consider: he might be trans or otherwise nonbinary. its pretty common for Galra to be trans/nb by human standards so u might have accidentally insulted him in a human way & also in a Galra way (by not recognizing his Galraness which could be really insulting if he’s parza) but the only way to know what actually happened is to talk to him. u can’t just sit here and guess or read his mind. & for apologizing dont go overboard. the longer and tearier cis apologies get the more painful it is to watch & it can kinda edge into dick territory if u start bemoaning how difficult gender is for you

\---

Shiro lets that sink in for a few minutes, rereading a couple of Pidge’s run-on sentences to try to parse the convoluted syntax. He can definitely use some of this in his next gender studies paper.

\---

So i have to ask him what i said wrong?

not necessarily. just say sorry and don’t go overboard & ask if there’s anything u can do to make up for it, then don’t make that mistake again in the future

Okay thank you pidge

np

\---

Shiro sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, leaning back in the threadbare library armchair. He’s got to apologize to Keith for apologizing wrong first, then he has to apologize for thinking he was a girl in the first place. It’s not going to be pretty. Part of him wonders if he should bring some sort of olive branch with him. A hot chocolate maybe? Galra like sweet things, right?

And that’s how Shiro finds himself standing in front of Books of Marmora for the second time in two days, clutching a steaming Starbucks hot chocolate, mentally psyching himself up to double-apologize to the hot Galra bookseller he accidentally double-insulted then apologized wrong to. He’s got this. Nothing can go wrong.

The store is quiet as a tomb when Shiro enters. That should be an omen, but he forges ahead. He glances down each silent aisle, heart creeping higher into his throat with each step.

“Sorry, you can’t have drinks in here.”

Shiro yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin, spilling the burning hot chocolate all down his front. He bites down on a litany of curses and turns around to see a very shocked-looking Keith.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith blurts immediately, hands flying out as if looking for something to mop up the spilled hot chocolate with. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me.”

“Nrrghh,” Shiro responds intelligently, his face scrunched into a very pained grimace that was maybe meant to be a smile at one time.

“Stay right there, I’ll be right back,” Keith says, then disappears into the stacks. Shiro isn’t about to go anywhere, so he just stands in the middle of the aisle with hot chocolate the temperature of the surface of the sun slopped down his lilac pullover and brand new khakis. Keith reappears quickly with a couple of worn hand towels and an ice pack. He thrusts them at Shiro, then realizes Shiro doesn’t have a spare hand between the half-empty cup of hot chocolate and his messenger bag. Keith relieves him of the hot chocolate, setting it cautiously on top of a nearby display as if it was a bomb.

“Are… you okay?” he asks.

Shiro, in the process of trying in vain to soak up some of the mess, looks up with a strained grin. “Peachy.”

“I got the ice pack for, uh.” Keith waves his hand in Shiro’s direction.

“Thanks.” Shiro shamelessly presses the ice pack against his scalded groin and hisses, half out of pain and half out of relief.

After thirty seconds of nearly-unbearable tension, Keith and Shiro speak at the same time. They both immediately stop; Keith’s ears are pressed flat back like a cat’s when confronted with a vacuum cleaner. “You first,” he says.

“No, you can go,” Shiro rallies.

“I was just going to see if you had another course book to find,” Keith says. “And tell you we don’t allow drinks in here for this exact reason.”

“Oh.” Shiro has the sudden, intense urge to dissolve into the carpet. Now he has to _triple-apologize._

“Why do you have to triple-apologize?” Keith asks.

Damn Shiro’s runaway, misbehaving mouth for talking without permission. Shiro blushes so hard he smashes the ice pack to his face, realizing too late that it’s sticky from hot chocolate and has spent the past minute and a half pressed to his crotch. He’s got to commit to this now. “I brought the hot chocolate to apologize to you for thinking you were a girl and insulting you and your Galra-ness, and also to apologize for messing up the apology yesterday, and now I have to apologize for spilling it.”

Keith seems to understand Shiro just fine for having an ice pack in front of his mouth. “Well, I don’t think you have to apologize for spilling it because your clothes did a great job soaking it up. There’s none on the floor.”

Shiro makes a gurgling noise that could be interpreted as an affirmative.

Keith continues, “I accept your apologies. The hot chocolate was a sweet gesture. Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro says bravely, finally lowering the ice pack. It’s left an impressive red-and-white blotch pattern on Shiro’s face and Keith doesn’t have the heart to tell him. “I really am _really_ sorry about insulting you. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s alright, trust me. You’re more torn up about this than I am; it happens all the time,” Keith assures him. “I’m used to it.”

Shiro blanches and nods quickly, realizing he just came dangerously close to over-apologizing like Pidge had specifically warned him against. “Is there… anything I can do to make it up to you?”

That question seems to genuinely catch Keith off guard. His tail waves around animatedly as he puts serious thought into his answer, then somewhat underwhelmingly comes up with “I’d take a hot chocolate that wasn’t spilled all over your clothes.”

“Super!” Shiro chirps, his stomach doing a little backflip at the sight of a real, easy smile from Keith. He still feels bad about everything, but at least now he can appreciate Keith’s attractive qualities again without overwhelming guilt.

“My shift ends at five, if you want to meet me at the Starbucks next door,” Keith says, somewhat shyly. Shiro nods enthusiastically, completely forgetting his scorched crotch in favor of getting lost in Keith’s adorable good looks. Somehow he manages to gather enough wits to see himself from the store, but not enough to give Keith his ice pack back or take the ruined cup of hot chocolate with him. But he’s got to commit to this now.

He walks back to campus to change and clean himself up. The sweater and khakis get unceremoniously thrown in a bucket of water in hopes the stains will come out of them, then Shiro surveys the damage. His white underwear are goners. Fortunately, the burns don’t look bad. They’re red, for sure, but nothing that time won’t fix. Just for good measure, Shiro puts aloe vera on them then washes off the icepack of sticky residue.

Five o’clock rolls around sooner than Shiro expected it to. He jogs most of the way to the Starbucks out of excitement and tries desperately to catch his breath and not look like a panting mess when he shows up. He gets mixed results. Keith is already waiting inside the warmth of the store, looking up at the menu board as if he needs to put real concentration into what he’s going to get. The moment Shiro walks in, one ear swivels around to Shiro and Keith’s tail does this little wiggly shiver thing. Then Keith looks over his shoulder and shoots Shiro a heart-melting grin.

Shiro proudly holds out the icepack. “It’s clean,” he announces. Keith gives him a nonplussed look.

“It’s disposable.”

“Oh.”

Keith takes pity on Shiro and accepts the ice pack anyways. It’s a tepid plastic bag of liquid at this point. He discreetly chucks it across the Starbucks when Shiro isn’t looking and somehow manages to make it into the trash can. A college student sitting near the trash gives him an impressed thumbs up.

“Do you know what you want… Keith?” Shiro’s voice snaps Keith back into awareness and he doesn’t miss the way Shiro added his name uncertainly on the end.

“Small hot chocolate, please,” he says to the cashier, and Shiro pays. Once they have their drinks—a medium hot chocolate for Shiro, to go with Keith’s small—they make their way back outside into the crisp September air.

“Should we walk?” Shiro asks, gesturing off down main street. Keith shrugs and starts walking. Neither of them knows what to do now. Obviously someone’s got to start talking because they can’t just walk in silence. Just as Keith starts mentally running through a list of small-talk conversation starters he saw on Reddit, Shiro pipes up with one of the weirdest yet most innocent questions Keith has ever gotten.

“Are there tail jackets for when you get cold in the winter?”

Keith doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, but it provokes an almost giggly blush in Shiro, which makes him cuter than a man of his size should be. “Excuse me, but _what?”_ Then Shiro’s face straightens out quickly and he opens his mouth to apologize. “No, no, wait, before you apologize. I’m not offended. I’ve just literally never heard that before.”

“Oh, okay,” Shiro breathes. Keith puts his lips on the lid of his hot chocolate just for something to do with his mouth. He knows all too well it’s too hot to drink right now.

“I’ve never thought of a tail coat. When it’s really cold outside I just stick it down one of my pants legs,” Keith says frankly.

Shiro laughs. “Do you dress to the left or the right?”

Keith cocks an eyebrow and nibbles on his lid again.

“Y’know, like when you wear boxers…” Shiro tries to clarify, then Keith catches up.

“Oh! Oh! Yeah, when you wear boxers. I generally don’t.” Shiro’s eyes go wide. Keith blushes furiously and tries to play it cool, fully realizing the unintended implication of what he just said. “I prefer briefs. I always wear underwear. All the time.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro nods, takes a swig of his hot chocolate, and goes through all five stages of grief in two seconds as he burns his entire mouth. Keith winces sympathetically. This man is a disaster, but it’s endlessly endearing. Something about this huge, hot hunk tripping over himself like a puppy around Keith makes him feel powerful, even if he is vaguely aware he’s not any less of a mess himself.

“So… are you a student here?” Keith asks, trying to make a sharp left turn onto a normal topic of conversation between two relative strangers who are sort of on a coffee date. His heart swoops as he realizes that’s what this could technically be classified as, but he beats the thought back with a stick. Shiro’s doing this to apologize. Even though this is a fairly extreme length to go through to apologize for accidentally misgendering Keith, then spilling hot chocolate on himself while attempting to apologize for the misgendering. It’s ridiculous. But Keith is not one to look a gift horse in the (burned) mouth.

“Yeah. I just started my sophomore year,” Shiro replies, his voice gravelly. It’s _really_ hot, even though Keith knows it’s just the byproduct of burning his throat and logically should not be attractive. “What about you?”

“I graduated last year,” Keith answers, looking up at the tall stone pillars flanking the college’s entrance fondly.

“You looking at colleges, then?” Shiro asks, apparently not following Keith’s nostalgic gaze toward the symbol of their school.

“I graduated _this college_ last year,” Keith clarifies.

Shiro starts to apologize, then cuts himself off with a cough and tries to save it with, “you’re very youthful for your age. Not that you’re old. You’re, what, three years older than me? That’s not a big deal. You look great.” Then he trails off into a flustered silence, the compliment hanging in the air between them.

“Thanks,” Keith says a touch bashfully. “I think you look great, too.”

“I’m not normally like this,” Shiro says apologetically. “I’m normally… normal. I can normally handle hot drinks.”

Keith laughs out loud. “Can you normally handle conversations, too?” The moment it leaves his mouth, Keith realizes it’s mean and he punishes himself by sipping his hot chocolate and scalding the tip of his tongue. He looks over at Shiro, afraid to see a hurt expression, but instead finds the man grinning.

“No, generally not,” he says with barely-restrained humor. “But especially not around someone like you.”

There’s no helping the blush that warms Keith’s cheeks at the complement. His tail, ever having a mind of its own, flips wildly like an excited cat’s and there’s no way Shiro hasn’t noticed that. The two continue to chat as they wind their way through campus, their hot chocolates cooling to amenable temperatures and the conversation settling into something more comfortable by the time they reach the campus’s expansive lake.

In the mid-autumn weather, the acres of steel blue water are wreathed by ember-colored trees, their leaves rustling and flickering like flames in the breeze. Students are sprawled out across the grassy banks of the lake on blankets, chatting with friends and basking in the last of the good weather. It’s a panacea for midterms-induced stress. Even Keith and Shiro relax a little further into each other’s company as they take in the sight.

Keith’s feet automatically take him down the path that winds around the lake; Shiro follows after him, their conversation momentarily suspended to appreciate their surroundings. The path is narrow at first, a well-worn gravel track where the trees reach out to say hello as Keith and Shiro walk through. Then it widens out to a causeway that zig-zags over the marshy corner of the lake and Shiro steps up beside Keith.

“I love this,” Shiro says quietly. Keith hums in agreement. “What did you study when you were here?”

“Physics.” Keith downs a delicious, warm, sugary gulp of hot chocolate.

“I’m a physics major, too!” Shiro says, giving Keith a broad, adorable smile that he can’t help but return. “I really want to fly. I’d love to go into the air and space industry.”

“How come you’re out here at a liberal arts college then? Why not in the city at one of the technology institutes?” Keith asks, not unkindly. It’s a question Shiro has heard many, many times.

“I didn’t actually know what I wanted to do until the beginning of this year, honestly. Liberal arts is a safe bet because I can do anything with it. What about you, why were you a physics major?”

Keith pauses a moment before answering, looking up at the canopy of leaves over their heads now that they’re off the boardwalk. “Same reason, actually. I wanted to fly, too.”

“So why aren’t _you_ in at one of the technology institutes?” Shiro fires Keith’s question back at him. Keith responds with a complicated, grim look.

“There aren’t many places that have affirmative action for Galra. I applied to a dozen schools and this is the only one I got accepted to. Ever wondered why there are so many Galra here, or that you have a Galra studies program when no other school has one?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Shiro admits.

“There’s your answer.” They both take a drink, the mood sobered. Then Keith shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I really killed the mood.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Shiro says quickly, trying to clear away the guilt that clouds Keith’s expression. “What sort of planes do you want to fly?”

That question does the trick and the lines around Keith’s mouth become less worried and more contemplative. “I always thought it would be pretty sexy to be a fighter pilot, but more realistically, probably a commercial pilot.”

“I want to be a fighter pilot too,” Shiro gushes. One of Keith’s ears twists towards him.

“You’re not just saying that?” he hides his small smile behind his hot chocolate cup.

Shiro shakes his head. “Not at all. I want to live fast and dangerous and nothing is faster or more dangerous than being a fighter pilot. I’m going to the ROTC meeting next week.”

“Look at you, making your fast and dangerous dreams come true.”

And with that, Shiro senses Keith is turning towards wistful sadness again. There must be something about flying that upsets him, even though he likes it so much. Were Shiro a more intelligent boy in the presence of Keith, he would realize it actually relates to their previous topic of conversation and the barriers that Keith faces as a Galra, but alas Shiro is not. His naïveté becomes his saving grace, though, when he bounces on to the subject of books and relief washes through Keith as Shiro decides not to linger on uncomfortable topics.

“I don’t really do a lot of reading, even for class,” Shiro confesses. “Sometimes I have to and I hate it.”

“You’re such a frat bro,” Keith laughs. Shiro feigns offense, raising his eyebrows until they disappear into his bangs. “Well _I_ love reading. I prefer nonfiction, but if you’re going to give me a fiction book, it had better be historical fiction.”

Shiro smiles. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Keith prays that Shiro doesn’t know how to look for a Galra’s blush underneath their fur.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to talk about books if someone doesn’t read,” Keith says pointedly to try to save his calm, cool outer shell.

“I said I didn’t do a _lot_ of reading; I’m not illiterate, excuse you.” Shiro sniffs. “I have, in fact, read _War Horse.”_

“Color me impressed,” Keith grins. “It was a little too animal-centric for my taste, but Michael Morpurgo is an excellent author. Did you read _Adolphus Tipps_ too?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“It’s like _War Horse,_ but with a cat instead of a horse, and much less tragic.”

“We’re going back to Books of Marmora and I’m buying that,” Shiro declares immediately. “I’m a cat person.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Keith echoes and watches with delight as a blush dusts Shiro’s cheeks.

They continue around the lake, exhausting the topic of books, then moving on to cats and spiraling off into the chaotic haze of topics related to both cats and the internet. When they reach campus again, Shiro’s cheeks and nose are rosy from the brisk breeze and both are holding cold, long-empty Starbucks cups. Shiro promises to walk Keith to the edge of campus, despite Keith protesting that he knows how to get through his own school’s web of walkways.

At the edge of campus, standing under the stone arch that leads out into town, the two pause and a sudden expectancy descends on the air between them.

“So—” Shiro says abortively, his awkwardness returning in full force. Keith raises an eyebrow, not trusting himself to do any better than Shiro if he tries to speak. “I—uh, really like talking to you; you’re really nice. I’m sorry I messed this up so badly just trying to get a book, but—could I get your number?”

Keith blushes so hotly that Shiro _has_ to be able to see it through the velvet of his fur and he nods, fishing his phone out of his pocket with hands that tremble ever so slightly. Once he’s holding his phone in his hands, he realizes he hadn’t actually thought through what he was going to do with it. He knows his phone number by heart, why did he get his phone out? He wasn’t planning on saving Shiro’s number immediately—Shiro was just going to text him, right?

Shiro makes a move to take Keith’s phone but stops himself quickly, stuck in the same dilemma Keith is. “Uh,” he says intelligently. “I can put my number in your phone?”

“Okay,” Keith blurts, and nearly drops his phone trying to hand it to Shiro. While Shiro takes a few moments to put his number in Keith’s contacts, Keith breathes deeply and schools himself into something that’s hopefully less of a hot disaster than he is right now. Shiro hands him his phone back with a nervous, slightly sheepish grin. Keith returns it as smoothly as he can, pricking his ears up a little more for added effect. When Shiro bites his lip involuntarily, Keith knows it worked.

 _I could kiss him,_ Shiro thinks suddenly while looking down at Keith. His big, bright heather eyes and huge fuzzy triangle ears turned towards him earnestly, a small and shy smile curving his soft petal-purple lips. For an instant, Shiro nearly does, leaning down a hair before stopping himself so suddenly his neck cracks. Keith definitely heard that. Keith definitely knows Shiro was about to kiss him. Shiro needs to leave right now, immediately, before he embarrasses himself any more.

“I’ll definitely text you,” he promises, taking a step backwards towards campus. “Bye, Keith.” He raises a hand and gives a small wave. Keith hesitates a second before waving back; then Shiro turns on heel and power-walks back down the path.

All of Keith’s heated energy leaves him in a rush, like popping a hot air balloon, rendering him instantly cold and empty. Maybe he’d misread the situation, but Shiro had looked like he’d wanted to _kiss_ Keith for a second before he’d frozen and run away. Why’d he stop? Did he suddenly remember Keith is Galra? Were the ears too much? Is Shiro gay, and remembered Keith is trans, and Shiro’s not into trans guys too?

Slowly, and feeling thoroughly deflated, Keith turns back to Books of Marmora, automatically stuffing his phone back into his pocket. The sky is starting to cloud over by the time Keith reaches his car in the parking lot behind the bookstore so he hurries home, anticipating rain. His phone buzzes against his thigh as he’s driving, but he doesn’t check it, and by the time he gets back to his uncle Kolivan’s house, Keith’s forgotten about the notification in favor of taking a box of Cheez-Its up to his room to mope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> I respond to all comments! If for any reason you don't want a response (totally cool), sign your comment with "whisper" and I'll appreciate it all the same.


	2. Dark Roast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are friends for, if not roasting you to hell?

**Keith (cat emoji, sparkle emoji)**

Hi it’s Shiro!! Im sorry i ran away so fast i just got super nervois

*nervois

*NERVOIS

*NERVOUS

kms

_Yesterday, 7:08pm_

Hi Shiro I’m so sorry I jsust saw this please don’t think I was ignoring you my phone died

I had a really great time yesterday

If you want to start reading more you know where to find me <3

_Received 12:33pm_

I don’t need to buy any new books but I wouldn’t mind seeing you again anyways

Would you want to get lunch?

_Sent 2:01pm_

Dpends; would you want to try galra food?

_Received 2:01pm_

Absolutely!!

_Sent 2:02pm_

Saturday?

_Received 2:02pm_

Noon?

_Sent 2:02pm_

It’s a date ;)

_Received 2:02pm_

\---

 

Shiro blushes as he reads the three-word response Keith sent and followed up with a winky face.  A date.  _A date._ Is this a first date, or a second date counting the hot chocolate apology incident as the first?  Maybe it’ll be a first date with second-date vibes, so it’s more relaxed.  This is _Shiro,_ though, could a date really be relaxed if it’s with him?

He almost skips to the dining hall for lunch, feeling lighter than air.  Lotor trots alongside him, letting Shiro have his moment before the ribbing inevitably starts.  And start it does once they sit down with food.

“Shiro, are you in love?” Lotor asks across the table, the tone of his voice anything but innocent.

Shiro grumbles into his chicken because there’s no way he can win if he answers that question.  He remembers a debate redirect Pidge had once told him about, to answer the question you wish had been asked rather than the one that was actually asked.

“I have a date on Saturday,” he answers.

“The little _parza_ bookseller?” Lotor smirks, and Shiro nods.

“How do you know he’s _parza?”_ Shiro asks.

“I went down to Books of Marmora the other day and saw him.  There’s no way he’s full-blooded; he’s so small.”

It seems like a mean comment to Shiro, so he frowns. 

Lotor chuckles and waves a hand at him.  “Already upset on your boyfriend’s behalf?”

“Stop it,” Shiro mumbles, an unwanted blush crawling up his cheeks.

Thoroughly ignoring Shiro, Lotor continues, “I’ve seen him around with his family and compared to them, he’s the size of a baby.  Have you ever met a full-blooded Galra?”  Shiro shakes his head.  Lotor laughs.  _“I’m_ small by Galra standards.”

Shiro can’t help but scan up and down Lotor’s form for an assessment of a _small_ Galra.  Lotor is a few inches taller than Shiro and just as broad, but on his taller frame that makes him lean compared to Shiro’s bulkiness.  _Six foot four is **small** for Galra?_

“His family, though, are big for Galra.  Not as big as my father was, but my father was a giant…” Lotor trails off, his voice turned bitter.  He quickly snaps back to normal, continuing, “one of his fathers is probably seven feet, and the other one’s both taller and broader.  You’ll look like a child in front of them,” he laughs.

A faint sense of dread at the prospect of meeting Keith’s gigantic Galra fathers settles in Shiro’s stomach and spoils his appetite.  He levels a withering glare at Lotor, who seems quite pleased with himself as he smugly eats his salad while meeting Shiro’s stare.  “Do you ever actually help?” Shiro asks rhetorically.

_“Nope,”_ Lotor pops the P for effect and swallows a cherry tomato whole.

“I hate you,” Shiro grumbles, slurping his Coke loudly in a petty effort to annoy Lotor. 

“Then why do you talk to me?” Lotor retorts, chewing a carrot with his mouth open.

“Why do you keep hanging around like a _lamprey?”_ Shiro fires back, biting down on an ice cube that squeals between his teeth.  Lotor flinches.

“Joke’s on you, because I don’t know what a lamprey is,” Lotor leans in and grins to show Shiro the spinach stuck in his teeth.

“It’s a parasitic fish, you—” Shiro looks away from the giant purple annoyance sitting across the table from him to see Pidge walking past.  “Pidge!  Pidge, save me!”

Pidge pauses and turns to assess a desperate-looking Shiro and a thoroughly antagonistic-and-loving-it Lotor.  They press their lips into a thin line and sigh through their nose before wordlessly sitting at the open side between the two.

“Thank you,” Shiro breathes, pressing his hands together in thanks.  Pidge raises their eyebrows at him.

“How did the apology go?”

“Not you too,” Shiro cries.

Sensing weakness, Pidge closes in, trading a quick conspiratorial look with Lotor.  “That well, huh?  You got a cute new datemate now?”

“Noooo,” Shiro howls, burying his face in his hands.

“What’re they like?” Pidge pushes their face right into Shiro’s space, but when he refuses to respond other than a strangled moan, they whip around to Lotor, who’s got his chin resting in his hands and eyebrows raised expectantly, ready to dish.

“He’s this little waif of a _parza_ but he’s got long black hair and big ears and a tail, which is unique.  Big purple eyes; just the right size to sweep up in your arms and _smooch and cuddle and love,”_ Lotor practically shouts across the table at Shiro.  Shiro, for his part, is doing an admirable job of not melting into a puddle, but his cheeks are an atomic red that even his big hands can’t hide.

“Boy, he’s a mess,” Pidge deadpans to Lotor as Shiro flattens himself across the table, hiding his whole head with his arms.  Lotor hums in agreement.

“I almost feel bad,” Lotor admits, “but his reactions are too good.”

“Agreed.”  Pidge takes a bite of broccoli and they both continue to stare at Shiro, waiting for some sign of life.  Eventually, Shiro sits up, his whole face still flushed, desperately trying to look composed.  Pidge and Lotor restrain themselves for approximately eight microseconds before jumping right back on him.

“Where are you going for your date on Saturday?” Lotor blurts.

Pidge bounces off Lotor immediately, taking the new information in stride.  “Somewhere hot?  A swanky restaurant?  Did you pick?  Are you going to be a gentleman to your little gentle-Galra?”

“Watch who you call ‘little,’ pipsqueak; he’s bigger than you,” Shiro growls, the threat almost fully negated by his wavering composure.

“Such a gentleman!” Lotor crows, slapping his hands down on the table.  “Defending your boyfriend’s honor _twice!”_

“Not my boyfriend,” Shiro grumbles against his better judgement.  He knows he’s just giving them ammunition but he can’t stop.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Pidge says, “not with Takashi Shirogane to uphold the good reputation of his soon-to-be-boyfriend’s good name.  Speaking of, what _is_ his name?”

“His nametag said ‘Keith,’” Lotor says very matter-of-factly.

_“Keith?”_ Pidge echoes.  “Not a very Galra name.”

Lotor shakes his head in agreement.  “Not even a very good human name.”

“Let’s see what Urban Dictionary has to say about Keith,” Pidge says wickedly, whipping out their phone.  Lotor crowds right in while Shiro glares daggers at the pair.

“’A sweet and caring guy,’” Pidge begins to read,  “‘Beautiful eyes, usually brown. Enjoys being bitten on the shoulder—not _too_ hard though. His smile can light up a room, and he can make you feel special without even trying.  Often confusing and sends mixed signals... if you’re with a Keith, don’t break up with him, and don’t let him leave you.  He is often generous and loving and would do anything for his girlfriend.  He is not usually a wealthy kind of guy, but will use what money he has on the necessities. Keiths are usually very kissable,’” Pidge pauses to wiggle their eyebrows while Lotor hoots, “‘and will always be memorable... Keep him in your heart forever.  Heart emoji,’” they finish.

“That’s a full how-to-Keith horoscope,” Lotor comments, his shit-eating grin absolutely wicked.  Shiro drops his head so fast his forehead bounces off the table with a _thunk._

_“That’s not what a horoscope is,”_ Shiro groans weakly even though that’s wholly beside the point.

“Well, I think they got the brown eyes wrong,” Pidge says, “but it seems you’re in luck, Shiro, because Keith is a very caring guy who will make you feel special without even trying.”

“How are you saying any of that with a straight face?” Shiro moans into the table.

“This is very serious business!” Pidge says sharply.  “Now we know that Keith is generous and loving and will do anything for you, _his girlfriend.”_

“Yes, we need to make sure Keith is a good enough man for our young lady,” Lotor chimes in, putting on a fatherly air.

“I am going to kill both of you, then whoever wrote that, then myself,” Shiro vows.

“Oh no, but Shiro, who is going to be around to bite Keith on the shoulder—not _too_ hard—if you kill yourself?” Lotor asks with mock concern, barely biting back his laughter.

“And remember, when you think Keith is sending you mixed signals, don’t give up.  Don’t let him go.  He’s memorable.  You’ve got to keep him in your heart forever,” Pidge advises sternly, doing a far better job of keeping a straight face than Lotor.  Shiro knows full well Pidge is just taking the piss out of him and that awful Urban Dictionary definition, but he can’t help but take those words to heart and hate himself for it.  It’s _Urban Dictionary,_ and here he is actually internalizing it as dating advice when it’s been weaponized against him.

Shiro drags his glass of Coke closer to press it against his left cheek to try to soothe the fiery blush that’s overtaken his whole face.  Pidge and Lotor continue to rip into him, picking the Urban Dictionary definition apart in increasingly creative ways.  Finally, they run out of gas and stop to watch Shiro for reactions.  He cautiously raises his head, expecting the barrage to begin again the moment he shows his red face, but neither of them say anything.

“You monsters done?” he asks faintly.  Pidge and Lotor look at each other, conferring silently for a moment before Pidge nods.

“For now, yeah.”  They push a chocolate chip cooking towards Shiro, like a consolation prize for surviving a Starbucks-level dark roast.  Shiro gives them a grim smile but takes the cookie nonetheless.

“Look at it this way, Shiro,” Lotor says levelly, sweeping his hair over his shoulder to tie it up in a ponytail.  “We’re doing you a service by getting all your embarrassment out now.  This way you won’t have any embarrassment left for your date.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Shiro says, voice flat.  Lotor shrugs and snaps his hair tie, brushing the leftover wisps of hair behind his ears.  Shiro decides he’s done here and stands.  “Thank you for instilling me with a deep sense of doubt about this upcoming date, I will forever be in your debt.”  He bows sarcastically and leaves his dishes at the table.  The least those two can do for him is put his dishes on the conveyor belt for him.

“We love you!” Pidge calls after him, and he waves in response.

Shiro makes his way back to his dorm room and changes into some workout clothes, popping his earbuds in and going for a mindless jog to get his mind off of the whole Dating Keith Thing.

 

 

Keith arrives on time for his closing shift at Books of Marmora with a travel mug of tea and a shaky confidence about his upcoming date.  He’s pretty sure he’s been blowing things out of proportion after Uncle Kolivan sneakily used some old secret-agent-reverse-psychology on him at lunch, but he can’t erase the last niggling bit of doubt in the back of his mind that’s poisoning his concentration.  His manager takes pity on him and instead of putting him at the customer service desk, she assigns him a cart of new release hardcovers and tells him to make them look pretty in the front window.

And that’s how, as Keith is stacking Alchemist Honerva’s newest groundbreaking book about quintessence in the shared Universe, he looks up to see a sweaty and half-naked Shiro beaming at him from the other side of the glass.  Shiro’s skin is glistening, his pecs fuller than Keith’s own chest, and his abs softly defined without being grotesque.  Then Keith realizes he’s openly staring at Shiro’s tiddies and his eyes snap up so fast he nearly gives himself a headache.  Shiro mouths “hi” and gives a small wave, his discarded tank top tucked into the waistband of his shorts.  Keith waves back, setting down the book he was holding.  He can vaguely feel his tail going crazy behind him and reaches out blindly with one hand to hold it still.  Shiro comes into the store.

“Hi,” he reiterates.

“Hi,” Keith echoes.  He can’t tell if Shiro’s blushing from exertion or bashfulness, but it doesn’t really matter because either way it looks good on him.  Keith’s guts start doing a mildly unpleasant wiggling thing.

“Sorry if I smell, I know I’m really sweaty right now—I just came in to say hi; I wasn’t expecting to see you there,” Shiro says softly, catching his breath.

“Well, I do work here,” Keith says, his snark automatically jumping to his aid.  Shiro dips his head and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees.  “I’m—um—”

“I’m excited for Saturday,” Keith cuts in.  Shiro smiles; Keith took the words out of his mouth.

“What’s Galra food like?” Shiro asks.

Keith hums.  “Meaty.  I hope you’re not a vegetarian.  I mean, I didn’t think you were, judging by these,” without actually thinking about it, Keith reaches out to touch Shiro’s bicep.  His ears flatten immediately as he brushes against Shiro’s warm skin, fearing he crossed a line.

“Oh, these?”  Shiro grins, flexing.  “All chicken, baby.”

Keith breathes a small sigh of relief, giggling at Shiro’s sudden posturing and the unexpected _baby_ thrown in there.  He likes the sound of that word in Shiro’s voice more than he has any right to;  it instantly becomes his number one goal to hear Shiro say that to him again.

“You’re going to have to tell me your secrets,” Keith chuckles as Shiro continues to pose, fully hamming it up for Keith’s benefit.

“Protein shakes, and an undying commitment to pumping iron,” Shiro grunts, shaking his head so that his black forelock flops roguishly into his eyes.  He winks at Keith, _actually winks,_ and Keith’s breath shivers.

“Stop it, people are staring,” he laughs.

“Totally worth it,” Shiro says, but he puts his arms down.  Maybe Lotor and Pidge’s brutal roasting tactic actually worked, because this is the most composed Shiro has ever been around Keith.  It’s refreshing to not be the flustered mess this time, and get to enjoy Keith being adorably embarrassed.  “While I’m here, Keith, do you have any book recommendations for me?”

“Uh,” Keith says at first, then catches on to the game Shiro’s playing.  “Well, what do you like?” he asks, snapping into customer service mode.

“Sports.  Muscles.  Airplanes,” Shiro says, putting on a deeper voice, ticking the topics off on his fingers.  “But I’m a renaissance man in the making.  I want to expand my horizons.”

“Okay, I can work with that.  Maybe you’d like something in the Self Improvement section?” Keith asks politely, starting over towards the section.  Shiro follows his waving tail and trim waist, an echo of the first interaction they ever had.  Keith stops at the end of the section and gestures down the row of books.  “We have all sorts in here from communication skills to improving relationships to meditation.”

Shiro hums, folding his arms across his chest in a way that makes all his muscles bulge.  Keith sneaks a look and Shiro catches him looking, giving him another wink.  The blush that runs across Keith’s face burns.  Just then, Keith’s manager steps up behind Shiro.

“Sir,” she interrupts with careful diplomacy, “I’m going to have to ask you to put a shirt on or step outside, as per our store policy.”

“Oh—I’m so sorry, of course,” Shiro says quickly, fumbling for the shirt he’d tucked into the waistband of his shorts.  He pulls it on backwards and inside out, muffles a curse, and turns it around without seeming to realize it’s still inside out.  Keith’s manager gives him a small smile and thanks him, drifting away into another aisle.

A blushing and sheepish Shiro turns back to Keith, who bursts into giggles.  “It’s inside out,” Keith mumbles.

Shiro looks down at his chest.  “Well, this is just how it is now,” he declares.  “I’m still looking for a book, you know.”

“Right, sorry,” Keith says, gulping a breath to wrestle himself back into composure.  “Communication, meditation, relationships, self-esteem… any of those sound good to you?”

“Relationships?  I just met someone and I like them a lot and don’t want to mess it up,” Shiro says.  Keith can’t fight the grin off his face or hide the way his breath catches in his throat.  He nods and walks halfway down the aisle, bending at the waist to run his fingers across the titles on the lower shelves.  He flicks his tail on purpose; he hasn’t been blind to how mesmerized Shiro seems by it.

When he straightens up and turns around with a book in hand, Keith catches Shiro with a soft and utterly smitten expression on his face.  Shiro quickly clears his throat and puts a less sappy look on, then accepts the book from Keith, flipping through its pages cursorily.

“It’s not too far above your reading level, is it?” Keith inquires politely.  Shiro’s eyebrows arch, his eyes meeting Keith’s over the top of the book.

“That’s not a very nice way to talk to your best customer, is it?”

Keith laughs.  “You’re far from our best.”

“Most handsome, then?” Shiro lowers the book and gives Keith a wink.

“Stop,” Keith grumbles, ears flattening with bashfulness.  Shiro smiles.  He snaps the book shut and announces,

“I’ll take this one.  Thank you very much for your assistance.”

Keith’s face registers more surprise than he would’ve liked to show; Shiro chuckles.  “What, you didn’t expect me to actually buy a book?”

“I thought this was a joke,” Keith admits.  “You were just flirting.”

Shiro hums.  “Yeah, but for real.  I’ll see you on Saturday.”  He winks again for added effect, liking how it seems to turn Keith’s knees into Jell-O.  It’s only after paying for the book and leaving the store does he realize that he completely forgot to ask Keith where they’re actually going, and how they’re getting there.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath.  “Gotta commit.”  He fishes out his phone instead, but decides it would be a little smoother to text Keith later, and less likely to alert Keith to the fact that Shiro fully forgot what he was going to ask at the end there.

 

Back inside Books of Marmora, Keith’s eyes are fixed on the door but he’s not actually looking at anything; he’s replaying the whole interaction over and over in his head.  His manager slides back around the end of the aisle and gives him a look.

“Mooning over your boyfriend?” she asks.

Keith snaps back into reality and blinks several times, his blush firing up again.  “Axca, no,” he groans, but Axca is also Galra and knows all too well the telltale signs of Keith’s blush.

Axca grins and sidles closer.  “He’s handsome.  I almost didn’t want to tell him to put his shirt back on.”

“He’s gay,” Keith points out, then adds quickly, “I’m pretty sure.”

“I have eyes,” Axca counters.  “Also, you haven’t said he’s not your boyfriend, so I’m forced to make the conclusion that _Keith is dating a very sweaty, very muscular human boy who—”_

Keith whips a book off the shelf and throws it at Axca to shut her up, but it’s too late and her very loud announcement has already alerted Regris all the way in the travel section.  He bounds over, eyes bright and tail waving.

“You’re dating a human?” he asks without any preamble.  Axca calmly reshelves the book Keith threw at her.

“Look—Regris, put your human fetish away—we’re not dating.  He’s a nice guy who misgendered me but actually apologized, bought me a hot chocolate, and we went on a walk together.  We’re getting lunch at Two Moons on Saturday,” Keith says brusquely, crossing his arms.

Axca narrows her eyes.  “That sounds like pre-dating.”

“There’s no such thing as pre-dating,” Keith argues.

Axca takes a step closer and raises her eyebrows.  “There is, and it’s what you’re doing right now.  You were just flirting—”

“We weren’t flirting!  I helped him find a book!”

“Everything he said was a double entendre—”

“I heard him from the travel section and I could tell it was flirting,” Regris chimes in.  Keith’s mouth opens to say something, but Axca cuts him off.

“—plus you said to him, and I quote, ‘you were just flirting.’”

“You were eavesdropping on me?  Both of you?” Keith squeaks with outrage.  He can feel the fur on his spine starting to fluff.

“That’s beside the point,” Axca waves a hand.  “You’re pre-dating.”

Keith says nothing.  His face is on fire and both his Galra coworkers can see it clearly.  Around Shiro, Keith has a chance of still appearing composed.  Around any other Galra, though, there’s no hope.

“So, do your uncles know about him?”

Regris’s eyes take on a maniacal gleam.  “Do they know he’s _human?”_

“For fuck’s sake, Regris,” Axca scolds him quietly, then turns back to Keith, fully expecting an answer.

“Sort of,” Keith mumbles.  “Yes.”

“Well that’s good,” she says lightly.  “Does he know about them?”

Keith’s silence is telling.

“Oh, he’s so much _smaller_ than your uncles,” Regris purrs, “he’ll be so nervous around them, especially when he finds out they’re ex-spies.”

“Is your whole thing about humans actually some backwards, narcissistic Galra size kink?” Keith asks pointedly in his direction, but Regris only shrugs, not remotely abashed.

“You should probably alert the nice, small human boy to your giant, intimidating ex-military uncles,” Axca says all too reasonably, and when she puts it like that, Keith almost feels bad for not having told Shiro yet, even though there has been no appropriate time or opening to do so.

“I’ll put it on my to-do list, thanks,” Keith replies snippily.

“Do you think he likes you because you’re small for a Galra?  Humans never seem to like me; I think it’s because I’m too big, but only for a hum—” Regris starts in, but Axca swiftly cuts him off.

“One more weird human-Galra peep from you and you’re on registers until closing,” she threatens, pointing a clawed finger at him.  He narrows his yellow eyes at Axca, but says nothing.  Keith wonders if Regris wishes he was _parza_ and that’s why he’s so obsessed with humans.  The door groans open and Axca glides back into bookstore-manager-mode, moving to greet the new customer.  Keith slides away back to the window display, Regris his six-foot-eight shadow.

“Can I help you?” Keith hisses at the Galra as he re-organizes the display tower to fit more books.  Regris hums for a moment.  “That’s a rhetorical question, don’t ask me anything.”

“Do you like him _because_ he’s human, or—”

_“Regris!  Registers!”_ Axca shouts from across the store.  Regris deflates and sulks over to the registers, joining the sullen new employee Ladnok there.

Before long, Axca reappears under the guise of helping Keith with the display.  “So…” she croons, examining one book’s dust jacket, “you got any dates planned?”

Keith seriously considers feigning sudden illness to get out of this conversation, but his traitorous mouth (which loves to gossip more than his brain approves of) answers, “Saturday.”

Axca’s eyes sparkle as she looks up from the book.  “Care to share any details?”

Keith sighs.  “I’m only telling you this because you’re being _marginally_ less creepy about it than Regris.”

“Ouch,” Axca deadpans.

“I’m taking him to Two Moons for lunch.  I already told him it’s Daibazaalian food, but I didn’t tell him where.”

“And he’s alright with Galra food?” Axca asks.

“Yeah.  I told him it’s meaty, and he said he was fine with that.”  Axca’s question makes Keith suddenly worry that maybe Shiro was faking being okay with Daibazaalian food, and that the date will be a disaster when the food makes Shiro sick.  Fortunately, Axca says nothing else and just nods.

“Well, I don’t want to be too creepy,” she says loftily, “but good luck.  Let me know how it goes.”

“Thanks,” Keith grunts.  Axca gives him a pat on the shoulder as she leaves.

Ten minutes later, Keith’s phone vibrates in his pocket.  He glances around, then slips behind the nearest shelves out of sight of customers to check it.

 

\---

**Shiro (coffee emoji, muscle emoji)**

Hey i totally fogot to ask when i was just in there but where are we going on saturday?

I meant to ask but

I forget how to function around somenoe as beautiful as you

_Received 5:45pm_

Two Moons Daibazaalian Café

It’s not far away, i’ll pick you up at 11:30. What dorm are you in?

_Sent 5:46pm_

Ok!! I’m in shafer

Also are we just going to ignore that……?

_Received 5:46pm_

Ignore what??

OH

OH my god

_Sent 5:47pm_

;)

_Received 5:47pm_

 

\---

 

Keith’s heart flutters in his chest like a hummingbird, reading and re-reading Shiro’s text over and over.  _Beautiful.  He called me beautiful._ Any doubts Keith had are vanished from his mind by that one word which leaves him walking on clouds.  Axca definitely notices but declines to comment, only grinning knowingly and stomping on Regris’s foot before he can open his mouth.  The winky face is really just the cherry on top.  Keith’s own awkwardness is regrettable, of course, but _Shiro called him beautiful._ Saturday can’t come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * Would you like to see more of this fic? I'm working on chapter 3, but could expand it further to explore the world and Sheith's relationship. What do you think? More?
> 

> 
> I had _way_ too much fun going ham on that UD definition lmao. Please also appreciate the color coded texts for greater clarity; pesterlog css kicked my ass


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